The Major's Wife - Page 57

She let out a pleasure-filled whimper when he used his lips to follow the trail of his finger, and again when he allowed himself to feast leisurely on one delectable nipple.

“Seth,” she whispered with a touch of urgency.

“Hush, sweetheart,” he said, brushing his lips over hers. “Just relax.”

“Relax?” Her brows slanted downward as if she was perplexed, while those big brown eyes held a dreamy quality.

“Yes,” he said, kissing each brow. “Just relax.”

She let out a ragged sigh as a beautiful smile curled her lips. “I’ll try.”

He took his time, stroking and kissing places he knew would provide her great pleasure. Some he’d tasted before—her lips, her neck, her eyelids. But others, such as the inside of her elbows, the hollow of her hips, the silken skin near her belly button, were new. He held her hands over her head and kissed along her arms, not stopping until he found her breasts again and she was moaning his name with such desire the blood was beating in his veins as if it wanted out.

Still he held back, pleasured her with tender kisses and caresses that now focused on her legs and the moist cavern where they connected. Offering herself, she arched her back, meeting and aiding his searching fingers. His discipline was waning, but like battling an enemy—the sweetest, most desirable adversary ever—he kept forging onward.

“Seth?” she gasped. “Seth?”

Running a string of kisses from hip to hip, while keeping his hand below, he mumbled, “Yes?”

“I—I...I think you need to take your pants off now.”

Unquestionably charmed beyond measure, he grinned. “Oh, I will,” he assured her, at the same time sliding a hand beneath one knee and lifting her leg, giving his mouth access to where his finger explored.

Millie gasped at the heat and moisture and all-out pleasure of Seth kissing her in the most private place imaginable. The fever, the need, was like nothing she’d ever known. The past weeks, when she’d thought her desire was at its utmost, had been like a mere candle flame compared to the wildfire blazing inside her now. Her throat was raw, yet she couldn’t stop whimpering and moaning, couldn’t keep her body from twitching and thrashing while something wild and passionate built inside her.

It was a sweet, heavenly energy that had her calling Seth’s name out loud as he held her to him, kissed her as deeply there as he had her mouth. The excitement grew and grew and grew until she was damp with sweat, and a frantic spasm overtook her muscles. She could bear no more and shouted his name, only to have him lift her, hold her hips up and continue to make the frenzy inside her leap to another level. It was like climbing a ladder, higher and higher, and then, when she knew for certain she couldn’t go any higher, an explosion happened, sending her in a million directions at once.

Her body was quivering, responding to the sweet tension so suddenly released, and then Millie felt as if she were floating like a feather, gently falling from the sky. The calmness was beautiful, brilliant, and had her sinking deep into the mattress.

“Sweetheart?”

She lifted her eyelids, smiled as Seth’s face appeared. “Oh, that was...unbelievable.”

“Yes, it was,” he said, kissing her forehead. “And there’s more.”

“More?” She laughed, shaking her head. “There couldn’t possibly be.”

He was poised over her, and his eyes held a significant glimmer. Her hands, roaming his lower back, encountered nothing but bare skin, and an entirely new flame leaped to life inside her. He’d removed his britches.

Smiling, seeing the perceptive glint in his eyes, she whispered, “Oh, there is more, isn’t there?”

“Yes,” he said, “there is.”

“Now?” she asked, her excitement growing again.

He nodded. “If you’re ready.”

“I’m ready,” she assured him. “I’m ready.”

He entered her in one swift movement that took her breath and had her grabbing his shoulders at a quick slice of pain. His body went stiff, and he held her tight for a moment, kissed her softly.

She hadn’t expected pain, but it had already faded, and utterly novel and dazzling sensations were once again building, promising to lead her to that ladder again, or beyond.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispered, kissing her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I should have been slower, gentler.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so.” Her hands on his back followed the slow rise and fall of his hips, and the friction, the way he glided inside her, coaxed her body into a splendid rhythm.

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